Fire Forged, Battle Worn
by Zorua Illusion
Summary: It was a sad truth that would have to be acknowledged; even the youngest in their number had been exposed to too much already. (Hurt/comfort without much comfort.)


Kirby was not the only one saddened by the looks of battle-worn leadership in the Smashers' eyes. With the adults, it was a sad truth that had to be acknowledged, but even Snake felt a pang at seeing it in the young children's eyes.

Kirby wasn't surprising; after all, he's been here since the first tournament. If he had nothing to contribute, he wouldn't keep coming back. Every year his skill improved, and this time, he brought someone who was his equal, if not better. Kirby was fighting long before he ever recalled, but it was still a sad truth that he could not remember a time of absolute peace.

Diddy Kong wasn't really surprising either, truthfully. His uncle's gotten into quite a few spats and he's usually the one to drag him out of it. Not to mention he helps the Mario Crew on occasion, so being independent or even aiding a team isn't foreign to him.

Pit threw everyone for a loop. The usually happy-go-lucky, humorous (if not rather strange) angel simply gave a near silent, long-suffering sigh, a hand brushing over the glowing rings on his wrist as he connected the portions of his bow-sword. (Later, they would find out, this is called the Palutena Blade, and he's always been more comfortable with a bow. The glint returns and they wonder just how much he's been through in the adventure he still has yet to talk about.)

The Ice Climbers, Popo and Nana, simply adjusted the grips on their hammers. There was a mountain to climb but it was a metaphor, but neither could help but to check their cleats and equipment (while hoping that their metaphorical equipment would hold up just as well). The closest thing they ever got to this was fighting that condor, but that was nothing compared to this.

Pikachu, like Kirby, had been in since the first tournament. Unlike Kirby, however, he was very vocal, so now that he's silent, a warning flag to everyone who knows him flies up. Electricity bursts from his cheeks, and everyone swears they can see thunderclouds in the distance, dark and threatening.

The Pokémon Trainer, Red, is another oddity. He still holds his air of confidence, diminished though it is, but this time, he's simply looking down, fingers brushing over the non-battle-item Pokéballs on his belt, as if searching for reassurance. Whatever he's looking for, he finds it as he sets a gaze filled with more fire than his recently acquired Charizard could breathe on Tabuu.

Ness, like Kirby and Pikachu, has been there since the beginning. It's still unnerving to see the boy who's playful even during battles to set it aside, completely serious as he regards the code being as if it was made of secrets he was trying to decipher. For all they know of PSI powers, maybe he was. Small sparked danced around his head and fingers in a dangerous ballet, waiting until he commanded them to grow.

Lucas, for all the similarities he held with the PSI wielder, was a stark contrast to him. His hands trembled, his eyes watered, his lip quivered; signs of a child who had been there before and still had not been able to recover. Unlike Ness, sparks didn't pirouette around his head and fingers. Rather, his shaking hand reached into a pocket and rubbed something in his pocket. (Later, later, when Lucas has had an awful night and just needs to get it off his chest, he'll share the story of the Franklin Badge and the carving on the back and everyone, even Snake, are unable to do anything but look at the child in horror of what had happened in his universe out of the necessity to save it. Ness leaves, and when they find him, everything around him is destroyed in a room that Master Hand had set up just for that purpose. The very same enemy he had twice defeated was the one that caused Lucas so much pain and anguish.)

But this was not later. This was now. And right now, as adults, teenagers, and children alike all go to battle against the being made of code, the adults turn their sadness into rage, rage, against the dying of the light of innocence in the eyes of the children.

Meta Knight looks at Kirby and feels guilt and shame since he contributed to that look in his student-friend's eyes, but he only grips Galaxia harder, feeling the rage the sword, too, is feeling, for at least he's trying to make up for it.

Donkey Kong and the Mario Crew glance and look away from Diddy and how settled he is into his role of getting them out of trouble, and their anger towards themselves is released on Tabuu.

Pit has no one else from his world here. His Goddess is still up in the heavens, his twin not yet existing, but he is not the only one who has come alone, and they and those who know him fight not only for his life, but the one he never had in the first place.

The Ice Climbers are a bit lonely, too, but they've been here once before and so rely on each other and fight for their friends and each other, for the lives they've lived and those they've yet to.

Pikachu and Red look at each other, sad acceptance in their eyes that this is the fate that has been woven for them. (They can't help but to be glad it's them who carry the burden instead of their friends. Pikachu couldn't imagine this one Buneary's shoulders… but he's already carried the weight of the universe, and Red is irritated but infinitely grateful for the practice Team Rocket gave him as he disbanded them as he prepares strategies for his team.)

Ness and Lucas share a glance, and sparks stop their graceful leaps around Ness's hand long enough for him to take Lucas's as a sign of sympathy and companionship. He ignores how tightly Lucas is gripping it, desperate for contact since the final battle in his universe. Lucas's eyes still shine too bright, his hand still shakes, but his lip has stopped quivering and more sparks join the air, but these ones are different, brighter, more hexagon-heart than four-point-star, and Ness knows that this is the true extent of Lucas's power, and that he lost so much last time in a big battle that this time, he's going to throw everything in his arsenal at this code-man to prevent a single loss.

This all occurs in seconds that feel like months, and then the twelve people who were in the first tournament release wild, nearly feral war-cries before leaping into action, because as I said before, it's not so much _never_ as _now._

(And later, Master Hand and Crazy Hand will set up rooms that have no purpose other than to be destroyed for when it gets to be too much to handle. Each room is closed with a sigh filled with regret and sadness, and for once, you can't tell the difference between the two hands except by the placement of the thumb. Even Crazy Hand feels regret and sorrow, for all he tries to hide it.)

The Smashers hardly ever talk about it. Not even in the next tournament, where old faces don't return or come late while new faces stare in confusion as a flash shows in their eyes every time someone gets too close to the matter. No one asks and no one shares, and it's so easy to forget that these people are warriors forged in fire as they smile and joke as if it had never even happened. One day they would have to, but for now, they enjoyed the peace they had in this tournament.


End file.
